Nightmares
by ShadowRosePoet
Summary: Memories can haunt you forever. Even when you've come past the darkness. Luckily, those we love are able to protect and support us from our own wayward thoughts. ONE-SHOT


Cold, rough stone bit into her shoulder blades, as the weight of her captor pressed against her chest. She tried to keep her focus on that feeling of cold, because the alternative was to focus on the blazing heat of pain in her arm, or the horrid sound of her ripping skin, or the high pitched sing-song of nasty things that Bellatrix LeStrange kept whispering near her ear.

Bellatrix shifted her weight, and yanked on Hermione's arm roughly, moving it into an easier position to manipulate. The knife bit into her skin once more, and the evil woman dug her nail into one of the cuts she had already made. The combination was excruciating, and try as she might, Hermione couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her lips.

"What was that, you filthy girl? Are you crying over spilled blood? I wouldn't bother, since yours is worthless." Bellatrix told her. The woman's demeanor switched on a dime. No longer did she sound like a bird, singing the day away. Her voice was now rough, low, dangerous.

She returned to her grim work, a hum beginning deep in her chest. Absently, Hermione thought she recognized the song from some long ago afternoon, in a place so very unlike this. It felt like she'd been here for weeks. Bellatrix's ministrations felt endless. Hermione had kept a catalogue, if only to distract herself. The woman had hit her, scratched her, bitten her. Today, she had found a small silver knife, and was carving up her arm.

The knife bit deeply, beyond flesh into the muscle below. The pain was white hot, like laying her arm across the fire of a stove. Hermione screamed. Once she started, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop. Tears flew from her eyes, running through the dirt and drawing lines down her face. Bellatrix grew angry, and began to hit her. The woman struck her in the face and neck. She screamed obscenities and insults. Finally, her voice gave out, and she exhaled soundlessly as the woman cut deeper still.

"Mudblood marked. Now everyone will know what you are. What you were. Until the worms clean your bones, and the ground drinks up all of your dirty, filthy, disgusting blood. You deserve death. Worse, for daring to sully the name of magic."

Hermione shook her head, defiantly. There was nothing left of her voice to refuse, but her spirit wouldn't let her just take it. She couldn't lay down and die without a fight. There was too much to live for.

Fingers grabbed her jaw tightly, and forced her eyes up. Brown eyes met with eyes almost black, and filled with immeasurable malice. "No? Do you think you deserve magic, you useless slut?"

Hermione began to struggle as hard as she could. At least she could feel as though she fought, even until her end. She sent a prayer out, hoping the deity who had abandoned her would at least let Harry escape. Let Harry win.

Her screams lifted skyward, and she hoped for relief.

Someone was holding her hand and speaking in a quiet voice. She opened her eyes, but they were still blurred by tears. The room swam slowly into the focus of dim light.

"It's okay, Hermione. You are safe. She can't hurt you anymore," Fred whispered, kissing her forehead gently. The dream had come again, as the day approached. Over the years it plagued her less and less, but the anniversary always set her back.

Fred helped her to sit up, so she could catch her breath. She could feel the tears running down her face as her mind continued to plague her with painful memories. Her arm ached in phantom pain. Her chest felt constricted, and her breath came in gasps.

"Look at me, Hermione. Focus on me. I am here. You are here. This is real." Fred stroked her hair gently as she threw her arms tightly around his middle. She shuddered with each breath, trying to control her nerves. Finally she was able to lean back and focus on his face.

Fred looked at her, his eyes full of love and concern. She looked back, drinking in his blue eyes, so unlike the beetle-black eyes of her captor. Finally her breathing slowed.

"Freddie, thank you…" she sighed, and he kissed her on the forehead tenderly.


End file.
